I Didn't Mean It
by I'm gonna raichu a story
Summary: To put it in simplest form: Sam is a kid who bullys the gleeks just to get the approval of the football team, that is, of course, until he meets a little lady I like to call Ms. Mercedes Jones.
1. Chapter 1

**This was just an idea I had in my head, so I decided to write it down. I'm not really sure if I want to go on though. Please review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee...**

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Sam P.O.V

"Come on dude!" Matt cried, motioning for his friend to follow him down hallway. "If we don't get there soon, they're going to start without us!"

"Start what?" Sam asked as he approached a crowd consisting of my fellow football team members surrounding a locker.

"Vandalize a gleek's locker, obviously," Matt explained. "I mean, with football practice ending early, this is the perfect opportunity. All the other clubs are still in session, so no one will see us."

"Hey, you guys made it," a football team member realized when he saw the blond and Matt. "Now we can start."

"Wait, are we sure we wanna do this? I mean, what did this Glee kid ever do to you?" the southern boy tried to rationalize.

"Are you seriously defending a Gleek?" Dave, the captain, questioned incredulously.

"What? No! I ju-"

"Then shut up and paint," Dave instructed, handing him a spray can.

"Whose locker is this for anyway?" Sam inquired as he rolled the bottle around tentatively in my hands.

"It's for that short, chubby, black girl, but why does that matter? She's still part of the glee club."

"I suppose..."

"That's what I thought. Now come on, we saved you the honor of going first since you scored the most points last game,"

"Um...okay." Sam just finished painting my last letter when the intercom went off.

"The time is 5:15. All clubs are officially over. The buses will leave in 15 minutes."

"That's our cue. Come on guys, let's get out of here," Matt suggested, pointing at the double doors at the end of corridor.

"Yeah, let's go," Our captain agreed, starting run towards the doors, with the rest of the team following close behind. As the blond was leaving the doors, he glanced back just in time to see a short, African-American girl walking down turning into the hallway with two gleeks.

_I'm sorry,_ he thought before exiting the building.

Mercedes P.O.V

"Why do you think they're in such a rush?" Kurt asked, walking down the corridor with his two best friends, while motioning to the football scurrying out the double doors at the end hallway.

"They probably don't want to be seen in the same hallway as us," Mercedes reasoned.

"How come Santana gets to sing the solo for regionals instead of me?! That's so unfair, I rarely get any solos!" Their other, albeit annoying, best friend, complained.

"Excuse me?" Kurt asked incredulously. "If you I got half the solos you get, I'd be more than happy."

"Yeah, you have like fifty times the solos I'll ever get, but of course you'd have to add one first, because I've never gotten _any_ solos!" the diva interjected.

"Okay, maybe I exaggerated a bit," the Jewish girl agreed.

"Gee, ya think," Kurt added sarcastically.

"But that still doesn't change the fact that I'm a better singer than she is. I mean, she's always so sharp!"

"Oh come on Rach," Mercedes began. "I know you're mad but that's no re-"

"But that's no...what?"

"My locker," she whispered in reply.

"What about-oh my god."

"'Cedes, what happened? Who would've done this?," Kurt questioned, pointing at my locker.

"I bet it was football team," Mercedes said, breaking out of my trance. "That's probably why they left so damn fast!"

"You're probably right! I bet it was that blond that left last. What his name again? Oh yeah, Sam!" Rachel offered.

"Ugh, I can't stand them! And who the hell does that Sam kid think he is writing on my locker!"

"Come on guys, let report this to Principal Figgins."

"Really?" Their pale friend scoffed. "Please, he's going to do just as much for Mercedes as he did for me when I was attacked by football players, which is nothing. He wouldn't dare mess with his holy football team. I mean, who knows what will happen to the football team if one of their players is suspended. God forbid, they actually lose worse than they already do."

"So, what are going to do? Just ignore it and pretend that nothing happened?"

"I think that's all we can do," Mercedes settled, agreeing with Kurt. "He's right, if we report to Figgins, all he's going to do I question the football team and there's no way they're going to confess to doing this. Come on guys, we just passed by a janitors closet and the door was open. There must be something in there that can remove the paint." She starts to trudge off the closet, with Kurt not to far behind.

"Okay fine, but if I help you guys, I'm the one who gets to the song in glee to not express our grief but also shows off my impressive vocal range so that hopefully will see how much of a fool his is for picking Santana over me, and give me the solo!" Rachel cried, running after her two friends.

Meanwhile. on Mercedes's locker, written in bright blue paint, were the letters L-O-S-E-R.


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so sorry it took me so long to update this chapter; it's just that I've been busy with school starting up again, and that combined with the fact that I'm still trying to write for all my other stories... Anyway, I will try to update for this story more then once a month from now on, but I cannot securely promise anything.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee...**

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Sam was walking down the hall when he noticed a short black girl struggling to reach one of her notebooks in the top shelf. Being the Southern gentlemen he was, he immediately rushed to her side and grabbed the journal she was reaching for.

"Well, here you go little darling," he said in his best Southern accent. He turned to look at her while he handed her notebook but saw that she was staring down intently at the floor as if she was trying burn a hole through it or something. "Um... listen, a pretty little lady like yourself shouldn't have to work that hard. Let me tell you what, next time you need something from one of those high shelves, just give me a call."

"No thanks," she denied quickly, grabbing the journal from his hands. "I can take care of myself." She swiftly closed her locker and walked away.

"Whoa, whoa, wait up!" Sam cried, catching up to her. "I wasn't implying that you couldn't. I was just saying my services were available if you needed them."

"Services?" she slightly chuckled as hid her face in her journal. "What are you? Some kind of pimp?"

"No, but I like the way you think," the blonde winked.

"Um... okay then. Why are talking to me anyway?" she questioned, wondering why a jock that probably thought so much of himself was talking to a commoner like her.

"Um... what do you mean?" Sam asked, a little confused by her question. "Why wouldn't I be talking to a pretty little darling like yourself?"

"Well I just kind of figured you probably have more important things to do than waste your time talking to me. Like stealing a kid's lunch money or, I don't know, bullying one of the glee kids," the diva explained bitterly. "You know, the usual."

"Whoa, where did that come from?" the blue-eyed teen inquired, completely baffled. No one had ever spoken to him like that before.

"Why don't you tell me?" she asked, seeming to get increasingly irritated by the second.

"I don't even know what's happening here. I just helped you retrieve your notebook from you top shelf and you're accusing me of all these terrible things that I would never do."

"_Really_? _Never_? Are _sure_ about that?"

"Um...," the Southern gent hesitated, wondering where she was going with this. "I think I would know if I did something like that."

"Really? Because from where I'm standing it sure doesn't look like that."

"Well, no offense, but from where you're standing, you can't really see a lot anyway; considering that your line of sight is about up to my waist. Plus, your face is kinda stuffed into that journal of yours. How can you even tell if you're talking to the right person? You're not even looking at me!"

"Trust me, I _know _who I'm talking to, Sam Evans. A.K.A, the world's biggest jerk!"

"Jerk?! How ca-"

"This is my class. You know, this was interesting. How 'bout we agree to never do this again?" Mercedes offered sarcastically, turning a corner and entering Mr. Claude's AP Literature class. When she walked in, she immediately sat down at her desk and let out the breath she was holding.

"Everything alright, Mercy?" Kurt inquired, as he sat down in the next beside her. "You seem kind of deflated."

"I'm fine Kurt. It's just... that Sam kid was talking to me on the way class."

"Wait, Sam? As in Sam Evans? The football player?" the male asked unbelievingly. "Why would he be talking to you?"

"I was struggling to reach one of my notebooks when he came behind me and grabbed it for me. At first I was shocked, but I eventually just took my journal from him and try to scurry away as fast I could, but he followed me. He just kept on saying stuff to me, like he was trying to make small talk or something. The whole time I was just thinking 'go away, go away'. Then I guess something in me just kinda snapped when he was trying to me nice or something, cause I kinda got really snarky and asked him if he didn't have anything better to do, like bully some random kid or something."

"Wait, what? You actually said that?! What did he say?"

"Oh, you won't believe it! He actually had the audacity to say that he never bullied anyone before! I was like, please, are you kidding me or something?! That's ridiculous! So I got really aggravated then and called him the world's biggest jerk."

"Wow, what happened to just letting bygones be bygones?"

"Well, I would've if wasn't so adamant on trying to talk to me. Like hello, you can't be a complete douche to somebody one second and try to be their bff in the next. Although, I still think I was a little too harsh."

"What? Are you kidding me? I only wish that I was there to see you tell him off! Trust me, he got exactly what he deserved."

"I don't know, he seemed kind of hurt when I left."

"It's his fault. I mean, how could he say that he never bullied anyone when you're clearly one of his victims. I mean, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Well, I mean, maybe he didn't recognize you or something? Why else would he lie to you if he did?"

"'Cause he's a jerk."

"True, but I don't know. I mean, he did leave pretty fast that day. What if he didn't see you? Or better yet, what if he did, but didn't realize that was your locker?"

"Wait, so are you saying that he just vandalized a random person's locker just for the heck of it? Who would do that?"

Before Kurt had a chance to answer, Mr. Claude closed the classroom's door and started giving instructions.

"Okay everyone, take out last night's homework so we can go over it."

_What the hell was that? _Sam thought as Mr. Morris rambled something about the U.S. Constitution and the Bill of Rights. _No one ever speaks to me like that. Especially the ladies. _The blonde kept replaying the conversation he had with the girl in the hallway, trying to comprehend what the hell had happened. _What did I do wrong? I pretty sure I was my charming self, I mean, I even did my Southern accent; after that the girls' are usually putty in my hands. Why didn't it work this time? How could...how could-wait, _the teen suddenly realized during the debacle he never got the chance to ask for her name. _I have to see her again. __**No one **__turns down Sam Evans. _The teacher must've noticed Sam wasn't paying attention because he immediately smacked his meter stick on the student's desk.

"Thank you for volunteering, Mr. Evans. Do you mind telling the class who the father of our Constitution is?"

"Um... Uncle Sam?" the blonde guessed hopefully, causing to class to chuckle.

"Perhaps instead of daydreaming about leaping through the daisies, you should be taking notes, yes?" the teacher recommended, pointing to the blank sheet of paper on Sam's desk.

"Yes, sir," the teen said gloomily, taking out a pencil.

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**So... what did you think? Please leave your comments in the form of a review! Ta ta for now!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, look at me, posting a new chapter only about a week after my last update! Self-Five! Truth is, I've had some extra time in the past week and got around to writing this new chapter. I know I used Finn(R.I.P. Cory Monteith) but his light-heated humor and great personality is just what I wanted in my story. I hope you all watch the new glee tonight memorializing Finn Hudson! **** Please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee! Quit asking me! Sheesh!**

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***RING* *RING***

"Finally! I thought this class would never end!" Mercedes cried, as put her notebooks in her backpack. "I believed a person could only talk about literature for so long!"

"Agreed. Mr. Claude officially takes school to a new level of boring," Kurt said as he stood up and put on his satchel.

"I know, right? Well, at least the day's over. No more tedious classes for at least the next 16 hours."

"Yeah, but we still have glee club left," the pale teen sighed.

"So what? I thought you loved glee club," the diva reasoned, as she finished collecting all her things and put on her backpack.

"I do, but don't you remember? Rachel's singing that song to represent the enormous pain and agony we all apparently felt from your vandalized locker," Kurt explained, rolling his eyes.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Damn, that girl will take any excuse to sing a solo in the glee club. I mean, when they vandalized my locker it did make me upset, but not up to the point where I'd sing about it in glee club," Mercedes said, as she got up and walked out of the classroom with Kurt.

"Exactly. That's what I was telling Rachel, but she seemed adamant on the idea. I can't be-"

"Pardon me, coming through!" a blonde exclaimed, as he ran past and pushed the couple them into the lockers.

"What the hell?" Mercedes cried, rubbing her now bruised head. "Who was that?"

"I don't know, but I think he was wearing a Letterman jacket," the male offered.

_Why the hell does Mr. Morris want to see me? _Sam thought as he ran past a few people and into his English teacher's classroom._ Doesn't he know I have more important things I should be doing right now? Like be at football practice. Bieste said she would kick me off the team if I was late again. _

"Ah, Mr Evans," Mr. Morris greeted as noticed one of his students sprint into his room. "Couldn't wait to see me, eh?"

"Okay look, I don't mean to disrespectful or anything but I've kinda got somewhere to be. Can you just tell me why I'm here?" Sam asked, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

"Fine then. I shall proceed with haste."

"What?"

"And that is exactly why you are here, Mr. Evans," the older man explained, sitting down in his desk chair. "I would expect that an AP Literature student like yourself know what 'haste' meant."

"Ummm...okay. What does that have to do with you calling me in here?"

"Do you remember what you received on your last test, Mr. Evans?"

"Ummm...I don't know," the teen said, scratching his head and trying to remember. "Maybe a eighty-nine?"

"Close." The teacher opened his desk, and pulled out a piece of paper. "You got a fifty-six."

"Wait..what?" the blonde asked confused. "How is that close to an eighty-nine? That's like a thi-"

"My point is Mr. Evans," Mr. Morris interrupted, standing up and walking towards his student, paper in hand. " that this is not an acceptable grade for someone of your caliber. I expect you to receive better grades on a test than an F."

"Look, I'm sorry. I know I haven't been doing as well as I could've it's just that I've been busy lately but I promise you that I'll do better, okay?"

"No, Mr. Evans. That is not okay," the man said, as he shook his head. "This isn't the only F I have received from you. I'm afraid I must assign you a tutor."

"Wait, a _tutor_? No-no, I don't need a tutor. I know I can get better grades on my own, I've done it before," the teen reasoned, as he looked at his teacher pleadingly. "Just give me another chance."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Evans, but it's already too late for that. You will have your first tutoring session tomorrow after school. You will meet your new tutor at the coffee shop that all you kids go to. The Lima Bean, I believe." The teen debated the idea of arguing with the man but he knew attempt would be fruitless. Plus, he still needed to get to practice on time.

"You know what, fine. I'll go. Just give their name and I'll meet them," the blonde agreed irritated.

"Glad to see you are willing to cooperate, Mr. Evans. Here." The teacher handed Sam the piece of paper he was holding. "This is their name and contact information. I think you'll be happy to hear that this person is one of my best students."

"Yeah, ecstatic," the blonde said, as he folded the paper and put it inside his pocket. "Can I go now?"

"Always in such a rush, Mr. Evans. Take time to slow down and smell the roses! But yes, you can go now," Mr. Morris complied, turning around and walking back to his desk. "Although, I do not know where you need to go in such a hurry. I would assume your education is the most important thing to you. But... I guess I can try to understand. Believe it or not Mr. Evans, at one point in my life I was a young whippersnapper like you and couldn't wait to leave the classroom, got outside, and play some b-ball with my friends. It's all I would think about. Now, all I care about is feeding information to the young and bright minds of America. Funny how times change isn't it, Mr. Evans?" He waited for a response, but no one answered him.

"Mr. Evans?" Mr. Morris asked as he turned around only to see the his pupil was long gone.

"Yeah, but then unicorns would need to eat harmonicas instead of silver doorknobs," was the first thing Mercedes and Kurt heard once they entered the glee club. Brittany was sitting in the front row, next to Santana.

"What is going on here?" Kurt asked tentatively, a little afraid of what the answer might be.

"Well, Brittany was telling me that unicorns poop sparkles and Finn here was dumb enough to ask why the poop sparkles instead of rainbows," Santana explained annoyed. "Because _apparently_, that's the question on everybody's mind."

"What? I thought it was a legitimate question," Finn argued. Kurt merely shook his head as he took a seat next to his brother.

"Okay everybody, take a seat. We have work to do," Mr. Shue said, as he walked into the classroom and put his satchel on the piano. All of the remaining standing glee clubbers rushed quickly into the nearest seat available.

"Okay, so this week I decided we won't have a theme." Mr. Shue explained, as he wrote 'NOTHING' on the board. "The last few weeks we've had great themes and musical icon's song to sing that all you've guys have done exceptionally. But let's not forgot why you all joined glee club."

"Right, to get solos and prepare for when I hit it big time on broadway!" Rachel cried.

"To spy on you guys for Coach Sylvester," Brittany let out carelessly.

"Ummm, you blackmailed me," Finn said. "You told me you found Marijuan-"

"No!" the older man interrupted louder than he should've. "You joined this club to have fun. So this week, I'm letting you guys pick the songs you want to do." A bunch of "yeahs" and "about time" surged through the glee club, obviously delighted with their director's idea.

"Well Mr. Shue, I for one think that this week theme is the best yet!" Rachel exclaimed. "If you don't mind, I'd like to be the first one to start this week off." Numerous of continuous groans flowed through the glee club as Mr. Shue let Rachel come down.

"Okay, so I don't want say any names, but recently one of my near and dear friends suffered through a horrible bullying accident. This friend, obviously so distraught over the event, that they are in no condition to come and sing in front of you today. So I, as the caring friend, offered to sing for in replace of them and really get their emotions out," Rachel smiled as Mercedes rolled her eyes. The brunette steadied herself and nodded towards their piano player.

_All around me are familiar faces_

_Worn out places, worn out faces_

_Bright and early for the daily races_

_Going nowhere, going nowhere_

_Their tears are filling up their glasses_

_No expression, no expression_

_Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow_

_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

_And I find it kind of funny_

_I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you,_

_I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles it's a very, very_

_Mad world, mad world_

_Children waiting for the day they feel good_

_Happy birthday, happy birthday_

_And I feel the way that every child should_

_Sit and listen, sit and listen_

_Went to school and I was very nervous_

_No one knew me, no one knew me_

_Hello teacher tell me, what's my lesson?_

_Look right through me, look right through me_

_And I find it kind of funny_

_I find it kind of sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you,_

_I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles it's a very, very_

_Mad world, mad world, enlarge your world_

_Mad world_

A fair amount of half-hearted claps coursed through the glee club as Rachel finished her song. Mr. Shue, however, was clapping the loudest as he seemed thoroughly pleased with her performance.

"Wow... just wow Rachel. That was amazing. I-I honestly didn't even know you had that in you."

"Thank you . I think you all can agree that I am capable of nearly anything," the brunette grinned.

"If Evan's not here in the next five seconds he's officially of the team," Coach Bieste said as she looked at her watch. "Five.., four.., three.., two.., one.., ze-"

"I"m here!" Sam cried as he burst through the door and into the locker room. "I'm here."

"Just in the nick of time too. One more second and you'd be off the team." Bieste explained, looking at the sweating teen who was trying to catch his breath. "Change and be out on the field in five, not a second more. The team shouldn't have to wait on its quarterback." She opened the double doors and headed out to the field. _Whew, _the blonde thought as he opened his locker and threw his backpack inside. _That was a close one._

_Next Day..._

***RING* *RING***

"Ms. Jones, can you stay for a moment please?" Mr. Morris asked, sitting back down at his desk as the rest of the students filed out of class.

"Ummm... sure," Mercedes agreed nervously. She was never asked to stay after class.

"I'll wait for you outside," Kurt whispered as he passed her on his way out. She nodded in reply and walked up to Mr. Morris's desk.

"What can I do to help?"

"Would I be wrong if I said that you tutor your fellow students in order to collect community service hours?" the teacher questioned, not glancing up from the work on his table.

"No, you'd be right. Why? Do you have a kid that you want me to tutor or something?"

"That is _exactly_ what I have for you Ms. Jones," the man said, as he looked up and smiled at her. "I have another AP student that is having some trouble in class. I usually don't offer tutoring for AP students, but I feel like all this student needs is an extra push. and providing him with a tutor would most definitely do that."

"Wait... another AP student? How am I suppose to tutor him in that? I'm taking the class right now."

"Yes Ms. Jones, I am aware of that; seeing as I am your teacher and all," Mr. Morris pointed out. "But you are doing remarkably well in this class so far, and I'm afraid I don't have enough time in my schedule to tutor him. You know what? Don't think of it as you being his tutor. Think of it as a student aiding another student in their students."

"I still don't know..."

"I'll give you extra credit."

"Done!" Mercedes practically screamed. "When do we start?" Mr. Morris chuckled at her sudden enthusiasm. _AP Students, _he thought,_ would jump off a bridge if it meant one point extra credit on their next test._

"Well, I am glad you accepted my offer Ms. Jones. And if you must know, by the looks of it, you are already one minute." he said, tapping his watch.

"Wait-what? You just told me about this tutoring thing right now!" Mercedes cried, clearly flustered.

"Actually, I first told you about it three minutes ago. What you chose to do the time that time and now is all on your account."

"But-I-what?"

"Look , unless you plan on forming complete sentences anytime soon then I recommend you go to your first tutoring session," the teacher suggested, as he went back to the papers on his desk. "He is waiting for you at the Coffee Bean or whatever that place is called."

"Oh..okay." The AP student went back to her desk and grabbed her stuff. She was about to leave the classroom when she realized she had forgotten to ask for a vital piece of information.

"Wait, who am I tutoring?"

"He'll be the blonde sitting at a table with a bunch a textbooks. Now hurry Ms. Jones, it's rude to keep someone waiting!" Mr. Morris exclaimed as he motioned for her to go away.

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**I know I said this at the beginning, but as a quick reminder... please review! It gives me an extra drive to write for this story more frequently! Well anyway, ta ta for now!**


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